


Pansy and the Thrice-Damned Christmas Jumper

by MammaWeasley27



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Weasley Jumpers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-07 23:07:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8819920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MammaWeasley27/pseuds/MammaWeasley27
Summary: Pansy is celebrating her first Christmas as a Weasley, but she forgot about one teeny, tiny, little detail... Will everything unravel, or will she have a happy Christmas anyway?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [underthemistletoe](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/underthemistletoe) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> "I have to wear WHAT?!" Pansy is spending her first holiday at the Burrow with the Weasleys.
> 
> Disclaimer: All canon character, plots, and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. I am not profiting from this writing.
> 
> Massive thanks to my beta; I couldn't have done this without you!

“I have to wear _what?!”_ Pansy shrieked, staring aghast at her husband. They'd only been married a little over eight months - surely this was too much to be asking of her at this point in their relationship; she could have sworn that humiliating acts and life-debt-like favors came _after_ the first anniversary. If only she had listened when Draco warned of the atrocities that would befall her when she became a Weasley… She had dismissed him as being overly dramatic - like normal. She was beginning to think he might have been on the right track. Surely, though, he couldn’t have envisioned of something this horrifyingly tacky.

Ron’s ears were red hot as he stared unsurely at the floor, the offending garment clutched in his large hands. “It's just a jumper, Pans. My mum doesn't knit them for just anyone, you know? We can't show up without you wearing it - you'd be the only one without one. It would crush her.”

Pansy glanced down at the sweater, her skin already itching as she took in the dark green wool, an ornate, silver _P_ carefully scrawled across the front. She had grown up wearing the finest clothes and most fashionable labels, and this was certainly neither. Sure, she knew when she married Ron that she would likely have to give most of that up - not that either of them made pitiful salaries - because her lifestyle had changed. Up until now, she hadn’t minded. She had new, more active, interests now, which often called for more practical attire; She didn’t mind dressing down, as long as she still looked cute. _This,_ however, was extreme. There was no way she would be caught wearing that thing. Not even dead. She could swear she was already developing hives from it, and that was while standing across the room from the bloody thing!

“But, Ronald, I already have an outfit picked out! I was going to wear that little black dress you love so much…” So, that wasn't exactly true - okay, it was an outright lie - but he didn't have to know. She certainly wasn't going to tell him.

“But we’re just going to see my family for Christmas dinner. No need to get all dressed up; everyone always just wears jumpers and jeans. Just put this on and it’ll be over quick enough; it’s just a few hours, and then you can take it off and never have to look at it again.”

Pansy mentally growled and contemplated pulling her hair out. _So much for that idea!_

Some of her frustration must have bled through onto her face, because Ron tensed up. “Listen, I’m not going to force you to wear this if you really don’t want to, but I will not be there to defend you when my mum cries and my siblings scowl at you. Or worse. Everyone has been really protective of Mum since Dad’s been sick.”

It was Pansy’s turn to get offended. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know your vow to ‘honor and protect me’ was dependent on my wearing a hideous, lumpy Christmas jumper! Especially since you and I both know that this isn’t a one time deal: there’ll be a new one every year, won’t there? I won’t wear that vile _thing_ for one instant, Ronald!” She knew she had no rational reason to be getting mad. She knew she was being difficult; she just _really_ didn’t want to wear that jumper! However, she didn’t really blame him for not wanting to get between her and his family; the lot of them were intense at the best of times!

Ron turned red from the neckline of his own maroon one all the way up to his hair, and she knew she’d crossed a line. _Too late now…_ She instinctively reacted by closing her eyes, waiting for the inevitable explosion.

“You know what?” he spat, throwing the sweater down on their bed, his fists clenching, knuckles white. “I’m leaving. If you decide to stop being so ungrateful for a _gift_ that you only have to wear for a _few hours_ before you hide it away in the back of our closet, and quit throwing our wedding vows in my face, you can come join me at the Burrow. Until then, I don’t really want to see you.” He paused to heave in a breath, raking a forceful hand through his hair as he did, before he exhaled, his hands miming wringing her neck. “You’re driving me barmy!”

With that, he stomped out of their room, slamming the door behind him. She could hear him tromping down the hall to their sitting room, the rush of the flames as he Floo’d off to see his family - her family, now - without her, her eyes filling with tears.

She felt like a proper piece of shite. She slowly sunk down onto the bed, not even bothering to move the jumper as she did, choosing to simply hold herself as she cried. She couldn’t believe she’d been so horrible to him! It was a fucking _jumper,_ for Merlin’s sake! What was wrong with her? She’d never before been this irrational about uncomfortable, horrible clothing - she’d worn her fair share when she was younger, when her mother had forced her to for galas and cotillions.

Come to think of it, she’d been in a mood for the past few days. No amount of wine, chocolate, or bubble baths had helped. Not even the afternoon naps she’d recently found herself taking had improved her waspish mood! She knew she could be a bitch at times, but this was just ridiculous…

After she’d cried for a few more minutes she forced herself to get up and begin getting dressed, determined to suck it up and go apologize to her husband. She didn’t want to fight with him, especially over a thrice-damned jumper.

She crossed to their chest of drawers and began pulling out bottoms that she thought would go well with the _thing,_ her hands hovering over her favorite white skinny jeans. She would love to wear those, but her period was due to start soon, and she would hate to have that pop up while…

She sucked in a breath, her eyes wide as she began mentally counting the days and recalculating. When she couldn’t keep her counting in check because of her rising panic, she summoned her calendar and slowly began counting the days from her last menstrual period, her mouth going dry as her finger tapped each little box. _No…_

She was late. And not just a little bit. A week and a half. _Holy Circe!_ She’d been so busy recently she hadn’t even noticed the days slip past!

She slowly dropped down to her knees on her plush rug, trying to calm herself with the fact that she hadn’t felt sick recently, so _surely_ her intuition was wrong. Surely there was some reasonable explanation. Maybe stress? She had been rather over-taxed at work recently. That _must_ be it! But just in case…

Her hands were shaking as she turned her wand on herself, lifting up her cami and muttering the incantation she’d dutifully learned as a teen, just _knowing_ \- in her teenaged, prideful way - she would never have need of it. She had to cast it twice, as the first time she stuttered too much for it to take. She sat perfectly still, afraid that any small movement would throw the results, as slowly the seconds ticked by. Fifteen seconds… Thirty seconds… She slowly began to relax. Her mother had told her it would be almost instantaneous if she was - she couldn’t think the word.

After a full minute she let out a shaky breath, her body slumping with relief. Her shoulders began shaking with nervous laughter as she thought back on her panicked reaction to the mere idea! _As if!_ She threw her head back and laughed at the ceiling, almost missing the soft gold glow that began to emanate from her abdomen. Almost, but not quite.

“Oh, sweet mother of Merlin…” Well, that certainly explained a lot. She definitely needed to apologize now. _Bugger all._ But first, she needed to pull on that damn jumper...

**

OoOoOoOoO

**

After carefully getting dressed in the monogrammed jumper and her white jeans, spending an inordinate amount of time staring at her still - obviously - flat stomach, and charming her hair and makeup, she made her way through the Floo to the Burrow. She was nervous as all hell, but she was determined to keep it together. She would not turn into some blubbering mass of hormones when she asked Ron into the other room to talk. No. She would stand tall, her chin held high, and nary a tear in sight. 

That was the plan, anyways…

When she got there, she found the family all together at the magically extended dining table, eating without her, and it hit her again what an arse she’d been. She could feel tears of self-loathing rimming her eyes, and she tried frantically to blink them away without anyone seeing, which was quite hard as every head had turned in her direction when she entered.

“Oh, Pansy, dear, you came! We were so worried about you when Ron said you were feeling under the weather,” Molly cried as she stood to embrace her daughter-in-law in a warm, jumper-y hug.

That’s when Pansy really lost it, face scrunched up and tears spilling down her cheeks. Ron had lied for her to his own family; that was _so_ sweet! Molly held her at arm’s length, worry plain on her face as she turned to look imploringly at her youngest son. Pansy didn’t cry, at least not publicly - everyone knew this, judging by the shocked looks on everyone’s faces. Ron stood quickly and crossed the room to stand behind his wife, “Pans, are you alright?” he asked quietly, transferring her from his mother’s hold into his own arms. She nodded her head against his chest, feeling better already, just being near to him. She had been so stupid...

“Ronald, I’m sorry!” she said, her voice muffled by her husband’s Christmas jumper as she clutched him tighter. “I don’t want to argue with you. I hate it!”

Ron hushed her with a quick kiss to the temple and an extra tight squeeze, “It’s alright, luv. I forgive you; no need to cry.”

Pansy laughed, realizing for the first time that she was crying, and began madly wiping at her eyes, heedless of her carefully set makeup. “I can’t help it!” she choked out through another bout of giggles.

Everyone at the table was watching the spectacle before them, indulgent smiles on their faces as they watched the young couple interact.

Once Pansy had settled down, Ron lead her back to an empty place setting that had been left open for her, and everyone greeted her before beginning to resume their meal and abandoned conversations. Pansy was so glad she had decided to suck it up and apologize, because the food was truly phenomenal; her stomach would have been sorry if she missed it over a stupid jumper. She found she was much hungrier than she would have thought, especially with the nervous Billywigs fluttering around in her stomach. She needed to find a good way to tell Ron…

**

OoOoOoOoO

**

After dinner was over everyone gathered in the sitting room for dessert. Molly began passing around eggnog, and Pansy declined politely, citing her stomach being too full from dinner, which was almost instantly negated by her reaching for a second piece of pie. Fleur and Ginny took notice, she saw, but both seemed to decide to sit on the information for the moment, and Pansy was glad; she still didn’t know how she was going to break the news, but she knew she didn’t want anyone else doing it for her.

Ron set his empty plate on a side table and rubbed his stomach happily, pulling his wife into his side to snuggle her closer as he whispered, “I’m glad you came around. It’s almost over, and I’ll be able to strip you out of that jumper. I promise to make the bother worth your while.”

Pansy felt an anticipatory shiver race up her spine. “Actually, Ronald, I wanted to talk to you about that. I’m so sorry I was so horrible earlier. I know how your mum is about her holiday jumpers; I should have been expecting one, but I honestly forgot. However, I shouldn’t have blown up at you like I did. Do you forgive me?”

Ron squeezed her tighter and kissed her fiercely on the temple, “Of course I do, Pans,” he assured her. “It would take a lot more than a little row over a jumper for me to find myself incapable of forgiving you.”

This was it; it was time to tell him. 

“Well, that’s good,” she started slowly, “Because I have a feeling you’ll need to draw on that patient forgiveness a few more times over the next little bit.”

Ron quirked a brow and turned to face her head on. “What are you on about? Are you already planning to be a pain in my arse again so soon?” he joked.

Pansy frowned at him and flicked his forehead with her finger. “Don’t be a git! No, I’m not planning it on purpose, but I have a feeling it will happen whether I want it to or not. You know that happens when I’m hormonal,” she hinted. She really wanted him to figure it out on his own.

“That’s right - your monthly starts soon, doesn’t it? I’m sorry, babe.”

Pansy glared at him, “That’s not what I’m referring to, Ronald. But you’re closer than I expected you to be.”

He gave her a blank look, and she sighed heavily, neither of them realizing how quiet the room had gotten.

“I’m _pregnant,_ Ronald!” she blurted out when she couldn’t wait any longer for him to connect the dots. Ron’s mouth dropped open in shock even as his ears burned red, a prideful grin slowly slipping over his features.

“I _knew_ it,” Molly crowed, “Now pay up, everyone!” Slowly every one of the men - other than Arthur, who had long ago learned not to doubt his wife when it came to matters of _this_ sort - walked over the the matriarch and deposited two Galleons into her waiting hand, Ron finishing off the line, shooting Pansy a sheepish look as he did so. Even Angelina and Hermione placed money in Molly’s hand; Hermione shrugging and explaining in a whisper, “We thought it might have been the jumper.”

Pansy was gobsmacked, “Wait, how did you know, Molly?! I didn’t even know until just this afternoon!”

Molly gave a mischievous smile - which left Pansy in no doubt as to where the twins had gotten their trouble-making streak from - and said, “A mother _always_ knows.”

Fleur and Ginny both shared a good-hearted laugh over this. Being mothers themselves, they knew this to be true first-hand.

Pansy chuckled nervously, still blinking away the haze of astonishment from her gaze.

“A toast!” Arthur called, proudly thumping his youngest son on the back as he summoned a bottle of elf-made wine and some glasses from the kitchen. Everyone stood and formed a circle, taking a glass - Pansy tried to refuse but the glass was rather insistent, tapping against her hand until she took it - and holding them aloft as Arthur said, “To Pansy, Ron, and another new Weasley!”

“Another new Weasley!” they chorused before everyone knocked their drinks back. It took a bit of encouragement - Molly assuring her that the one glass of wine wouldn't hurt the baby - and Pansy followed suit. She felt the warmth from the drink spreading down her throat and into her chest as everyone came up to pull her and Ron into hugs, gifting them with bits of advice and more well-wishes. She tried in vain to catalogue each thing she was told, but quickly gave it up as hopeless and just began nodding her head and smiling.

Soon enough, little James was crying, and Harry and Ginny decided it was time for them to make their way home. Goodbyes were said, and the family began branching off, this beginning the annual Weasley Christmas exodus - as Harry and Hermione jokingly called it. Ron took up Pansy’s hand and walked her to the Floo, letting her through before following after.

Pansy collapsed onto the sofa and began peeling off her boots and socks as the Floo rushed and Ron stepped out into their living room.

“Getting started without me,” he queried, “I thought it was my job to take your clothes off?”

She smiled deviously up at him, “You're more than welcome to pick up where I left off. Starting with this thing.” She made an encompassing motion at the jumper, which turned out not to have been as itchy as she imagined. It was actually quite soft, and very warm...

Ron shook his head slowly as he took in his wife’s form. She was going to be glorious pregnant; he couldn't wait. “Nah, I think I'm going to leave it. You've never been fucked in a Christmas jumper, have you?”

Pansy’s mouth dropped open, “What would your mum say?” she gasped, eyes wide with the scandal of it all.

Ron gave her a crooked grin as he moved towards her, “She isn't going to find out. Besides, it's a better fate for that thing than it deserves. Certainly better than you had planned.”

Pansy laughed as her husband threw her over his shoulder and carried her to their bedroom. “Well, we still might have to burn it after we’re done…” 

“Are you kidding me? I’m going to keep it as a memento of today. Maybe I’ll make a shrine…” Pansy couldn’t stop giggling at her husband’s antics. This had turned out to be a truly excellent Christmas after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Massive thanks to my beta, MissandMarauder, without whom, this little ditty wouldn't be the same. <3  
> Also, thanks to jadepresley, the mastermind behind the prompt.
> 
> Technically, I imagined this as a continuation of the world in Tale of the Beetle Jar. I hope it's reflected in the writing.


End file.
